Still Life with Highway

Because she can see for miles
in any direction, she is not afraid
of the unexpected. If the road bucks
under the tamarack, the next hill
is so much the same she thinks
she hasn't moved. White houses,
white land, white sky. Horses,
a smudge of cows. Red barn
where fields surrender
flags of corn. Her life, the white line
on the highway. She's followed it
this far. The future appears
predictable. Distance the car she drives.

- by Mary Fell